Hot Stove: A Bad News Bears story
by daverindone
Summary: Ever wonder exactly how Carmen Ronzonni met Kelly Leak in the time between the Bad News Bears and Breaking Training? Here's your answer.


**Hot Stove in Van Nuys: A Bad News Bears Story**

The first thing the black haired kid noticed as he approached the side of Arcadia 2000 Game Room was how open the warm air seemed to be as compared to the clip joints back East. He could hear a dozen or so pinball machines, standalone consoles, the flash-break of a game of eight ball, quarters being jangled into a metal tray, conversations being shouted over a steady rock soundtrack, laughing, yelling, swearing and the occasional – yet unmistakable – sound of an air hockey disc hitting a goal. This was before he even walked in and the second thing that stood out alone in a row of banana handle bikes was a dusty Harley Davidson parked neatly at the end. It looked to be in perfectly working condition, but, set apart in the mellow SoCal sunshine, it held a certain dangerous propriety. A talisman. Smiling just a bit, he prepared to enter, waiting for the saloon doors to stop swinging so he could saunter in like some kind of East Coast gunslinger looking for action. Soon enough, two smaller Hispanic brothers wandered out, each wearing identical baseball jerseys. They spoke rapidly in Spanish, each carrying a hot dog in one hand and a Coke in the other. The kid held back a bit, not able to make out the team name, but the colors were a surprisingly clean yellow and white. Prepping himself for a good intro, he waited for a song he at least knew of. It's all about presentation, form and style.

He hadn't learned the above from his Father, yet was clear the pair had similar believes. While he secretly hated the term "Army Brat" it summed up his life for the last few years. Due to his father's commitment to the good old USA, he'd have to move at least 4 times in recent memory. From a small town outside of Houston called League City (of which he hardly had time to unpack before moving again to Reseda) he had developed a love for baseball. Not playing, in particular, but statistics, stances and again – form and style. Prior to that, he spent a month a military subsidized housing in a town called Wakefield, Massachusetts (where he became a default Red Sox fan) and spending a good stretch just outside New York City (Yankees / Mets). He did play in some organized teams, but nothing held. Heavy action, to be sure, but now he's just another teen about to walk into a video arcade like he owns the place. The right lyric hit:

 _"I'm your boogie man that's what I am_  
 _I'm here to do whatever I can."_

The saloon doors swing wide, making a dull thud-thump against the wooden rear frame. The kid strolled in, bopping his head a bit with the beat. He looked around, not sure what to expect and is met with…nothing. "No problem." He says to himself as he's grown used to unfamiliar locations. Making a small show of adjusting his two toned jacket, he took out his wallet and fished out five ones before feeding them to the change machine. Now loaded with twenty pieces of silver, he scopes the perimeter and settles on a battered King Rex machine, lining up a dollar to reserve the spot. He quickly grows bored as it's an older game and all the new ones had a line when he spots another guy standing at the air hockey machine, one hand on the heavy metal goal and the other one working a cigarette. He looked older that most of the crowd, togged out in tight denim boot cut jeans, a black tee shirt with the logo of a band he didn't recognize and a fringe jacket against the early evening chill. He couldn't quite place what separated him from the usual arcade type, but there was a weird light around, just glowing like a totem amid the masses. Every sound seemed to fade and before he could look away, he heard:

"We play a dollar a game here."

The kid, started, gave a look as to ask "You talkin' to me?" It was more reflexive, but it was trendy saying now and the last thing he wanted in a new place was trouble.

"Yeah, you. No point of just standing there and I've beaten just about everyone whose walked into this joint. One dollar. What's it gonna be?"

The kid snapped up the rest of his change and approached the table in a modified jive. "Ok man, it's your money." He looked up, expecting some kind of reaction, but only found the person on the other side placing his butt on the side of the machine where the ember smoldered. He quickly (too quickly the kid thought) snatched it back and said "I'm Kelly. Kelly Leak." His young/old face gave a hint of a smile before offering an outstretched hand.

Somewhat shocked at the courtesy, he shakes with a winning grin. "Carmen Ronzonni." Kelly's grip is firm and somehow overpowering.

The pair begin a game with Carmen scoring two right off the bat. Confident, Carmen opens up a bit. "Yeah, New York City, man. I would have stayed but…shit (Kelly cuts wide and the puck rolls past his goal) sent my Dad to Houston.

Kelly looks up, easily blocking Carmen's assault. "Yeah? See the Dome?"

Carmen thought of lying, just how simple it would be to tell him how he got a full tour and hung around in the locker room, but there was something in his opponents flinty blue eyes that warned him against it. In the course of these thoughts, Kelly had scored two more goals, defeating him with eerie marksmanship.

"Nah. Wanted to, though." The closest thing he did to tourist stuff was the NASA museum. There's a picture of him standing next to an impossibly large rocket of some kind taped to a wall back home. "You ever been out that way?"

"No. Well, see, I play some ball for a local team now and then and we're supposed to go there for a chance to play in Japan. The whole thing was weird because we lost the league series to another team last years, but one kid on my side has a father on the City Council and the other team's coach got banned for hitting his son during a game. It was pretty wild."

Carmen looks up, sharply. He had paid off his bet and bought his new friend a Fanta and a slice of cheese. Money wasn't a huge issue with him, so he didn't mind blowing some dough while finding out about the locals. "No shit! Wow."

Kelly paused, working the orange drinking through his straw. It was funny telling someone all this for the first time. Last summer almost seemed like a strange movie, but life went on and here we were. "The guy was an asshole, trust me. He tried to toss me off the field once, but I told him to cram it. Just a hardcase, some coaches are like that."

Carmen nodded. "I know the type, my Dad is in the Army. What's yours do?"

"He split, years ago. It's cool, though. My mom has a pretty good job and I make decent cash ripping off newcomers at arcades. Want another slice? My treat." With that Kelly hands the snack bar attendant $2.00 (Carmen noticing he's using the money he won from him minutes ago) and comes back with two more slices of pepperoni squares dripping off white napkins and two more bottles of Fanta. He continues:

"Our coach last season used to play minor league, but he was pretty much spent by the time I met him. He actually found his daughter around Hollywood and she ended up being our pitcher."

Carmen slurped cheese from his topping like a pro. "A chick? You had a girl pitcher?!"

Kelly offered a slanted grin. "And she was good, too. Not bad looking, either. One guy spiked her above the waistline – if you know what I mean – and both benches cleared. It sounds crazy, but it's all true. We have one kid that tried to take on the entire side by himself. He's out there. I dunno, I feel like it's sometimes too nuts. I'm not even sure I want to go to Houston, let alone Japan." With that, Carmen's new friend stares out the window with a quiet chuckle. He lights another smoke with practiced ease, striking a match against his scuffed riding shoes.

Carmen took this all in, already feeling like a familiar. "I'd kill to play in the dome. But you already have a pitcher. Not that, I, uh, want to take her place, but…"

Kelly exhaled. "She left with our coach. He really fixed himself up and they ended up working it out. Except, yeah – we're out down both. Good for them, bad news for us. Did you say you can pitch?"

Carmen had to think, it's been a fast afternoon, to say the least. Had he? Outside, the sun was slowly turning to dusk and the sound level had diminished. "Well, yeah. Back East."

Kelly sizes him up. Italian, longish hair combed stylishly, clean cut. A little heavier, but he's seen worse. "Any good?"

"Listen man, if you want Steve Carlton, I'll give you Steve Carlton. You want Nolan Ryan? I'll give you Nolan Ryan. You want…"

Kelly cuts him off before taking a long squig from the heavy glass bottle. "No, I mean are YOU any good?"

Carmen is about to offer a rebuttal, but a middle aged man waded from the thinning crowd and was bearing down on Kelly. Before he could confirm if the old dude was a loanshark, truant officer or possibly a hitman, he sees a baseball appear from the fellow's pocket, along with a magic marker. He heard Kelly say "Ohhh, right" when he recognized the interloper, gladly signing the ball which already held autographs from a slew of others. The person thanked him, saying what sounded like "…last one!" before exiting.

"Fan club?" Carmen asks.

"Nah, a kid on the team broke him leg trying to skateboard. He's out for the season, so his folks had everyone sign a ball like in the big leagues. Where were we? I have to get out of here soon." His pizza was gone and he took a final hit of his butt before grinding it out in the ashtray. The counter man was getting ready to close up, appreciating the two singles that were laid out as tip.

Carmen suddenly wished for another hour. "Well, uh, you were asking if I was any…I mean, I think you weren't sure about going to Houston."

And for a second, Kelly Leak's angular young/old face was shaded by the California sunset. He stoop from the counter and slung his fringe jacket over one wiry shoulder, the fabric making a whumping noise. Without being aware, Kelly was facing Southeast towards the Galveston coast, a solid 1500 miles away. He's they kind of guy you want on your side and 100% the type that you don't want gunning for you. When he replies, there's a wary dryness that seems oddly out of character. "I have to think that one over."

The pair exited the arcade, two strangers now forming a bond of undecided fate. To ease the mood, Carmen says "Gonna fly the friendly skies? I heard the waitresses are pretty cute – plus you get a free meal and headphones if you ask right."

Kelly replies with a sad shake of his head, longish hair blowing in the West Coast breeze. "That's another problem, see. We have no way of getting there. And no coach, did I tell you that? None of us know Jay P. Morgan, so plane tickets are out of the question. I thought of renting a van, but I'm not old enough. That's all we need – a ride – and I could handle it from there."

A small light went on in Carmen's brain, but he didn't want to ruin anything. Like so much else in his life, nothing was certain. As the years past into middle age, he would often think of how blind fate can lead people places they'd never thought of. By sheer luck or some dark alchemy, he was owed a favor by the classic 'friend of a friend'. And said friend had a van.

"Listen…" Carmen said, taking a small notebook out of his back pocket "here's my phone number. I may be able to help you out."

Kelly took the slip of paper and slides it to his back pocket before heading over to the motercycle. To no surprise of Carmen, the Harley belonged to him. An attractive, long haired girl of about 17 wandered over and hopped on the back. Kelly fitted the cycle's helmet on and flipped the visor up while gunning the engine. It purred in the almost vacant lot, all pistons churning in unison. "Good to know ya, man. I'll call you tomorrow and maybe you can meet the gang after that. I told them I've give them an answer one way or another."

Thinking of no other way to end on a good note, yelled over the engine. "Don't you worry, man, I'll get one of those Houston Astrodome or Bust flags started. Heavy action, you know it!"

And with that, Kelly gave him a thumbs up as the pair sped off into the horizon, their future already looking good.


End file.
